


Twins

by maryagrawatson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Gen, Post-Reichenbach, Reichenbach-Related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-11 23:30:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3336824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryagrawatson/pseuds/maryagrawatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty's web reached every corner of this vast world, even the Gulf Coast of the United States. But, surely, Sherlock Holmes did not exist in this world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twins

Billy Ray Webster walked the white sand beach of Santa Rosa Island barefoot, jeans rolled up to just below his knees. He tipped his face into the weak sunshine streaming through the clouds and inhaled the salt air deeply. It smelled of home, a world he had left behind six months earlier. This was his first time in this part of Florida and he enjoyed the quiet of the off season, the brief respite it offered him during his mission.  
  
He paused when he heard voices behind the dunes. They got louder and he stepped up his pace to avoid encountering anyone, the sand cold between his toes, and debated whether or not to tour the ruins of Fort Pickens.  
  
This is not a holiday, he chided himself.

It was most definitely not the time to play tourist. He needed to get to his next target, dismantle another segment of the seemingly endless web in which he had found himself entangled. Perhaps the day would come for his resurrection and he could return as himself to this quiet bit of the Gulf Islands National Seashore, but, for now, he needed to keep moving.  
  
And then, there were voices ahead of him, too, and he frowned. He'd killed a man in Pooler, Georgia, a few days before and really should have put more distance behind the act that had left him retching in an empty alley. It wasn't his first kill of this mission, but the most hands on, and he'd scrubbed the blood from under his fingernails until his fingers were raw. He'd been careful, he was always careful, but he never knew for certain if his contacts would show to clean up the scene before the police got involved. Georgia was a death penalty state and no one would come rescue Billy Ray Webster because of the other lives involved. If he got caught, his mission would fail and he would die a second time. He'd be buried in a grave bearing a name that tasted foul in his mouth. It was definitely time to move on. Why had he come here, to this dead end?

He kept his head up as he approached a family, trying to avoid looking suspicious or stressed. He suddenly wished that it was sunny enough to wear dark glasses without looking like an arse. He felt exposed and missed the baseball cap he had taken to wearing since he had arrived in the United States. He'd left it in a rest area bin on I-95, somewhere around Brunswick.  
  
The family, a couple and three children below the age of ten, passed him and the adults greeted him. The husband did some sort of technical work, perhaps putting up cell phone towers. The wife obviously stayed home and spent too much time on the internet.

He nodded, but did not slow his pace. He heard the wife stop and turn around.  
"Excuse me," she said.  
  
Bile rose in his gullet. He made himself stop to turn.  
  
"Wow, you look just like Sherlock Holmes, that English detective who killed himself last fall. You know about him? I used to read the blog about him all the time. He solved interesting crimes."  
"No, ma'am," Billy Ray drawled. "I don't know nothing 'bout him."  
"It's really uncanny. The blue eyes, the hair, the cheekbones, the pale skin. I mean, he'd never be caught dead wearing what you've got on, but --"  
"And didn't y'all tell me he done gone and killed hisself?"  
She smiled sheepishly. "Yes, of course. Well, look him up on the web if you ever have time. Blog is under John Watson and the detective's name is Sherlock Holmes. I'm telling you, you could be twins."  
"I will. Y'all have a nice day."  
  
His heart thumping painfully, Billy Ray returned to his battered pickup truck, threw it in gear, and headed back to Pensacola Beach. He didn't stop there and instead turned onto the bridge, only pausing midway to pay his toll. He then pulled into a Walgreens in Pensacola and made a cash purchase of some hair dye and a pair of scissors.  
  
After that, he continued west along I-10, stopping at a motel just past Mobile to use his purchases before swapping vehicles.  
  
Four hours later, James Carver arrived in New Orleans in a bright red sports car, cutting a dashing figure in a sharp suit. He had short auburn hair and had made a point to wear a black shirt as it made his eyes less blue.

**Author's Note:**

> Funny thing how this story came about.
> 
> I was walking a beach at what feels like the end of the world today (not Florida!), when a very enthusiastic woman ran up to me and said she was a huge fan and reads my blog and she couldn't believe that she'd finally run into me. I couldn't figure out how she'd recognized me since I'm in a very warm climate and not wearing my usual recognizable attire, plus I have lost heaps of weight since the last time I posted a picture of myself. She said, "Big blue eyes, porcelain skin, enviable cheekbones, and dark brown curls; you're easy to spot!"
> 
> 1) I can't go anywhere.  
> 2) I apparently look like a female version of Sherlock, but with John's build. *falls to the floor clutching ribs*


End file.
